“The Escape key went under the couch,” Sage said, her voice falling to a faint whisper over the crackling oak logs.

Tessa was off the sofa before the echo had faded.

She didn’t look at the ruined computer lying in pieces on the brick hearth, and she didn’t check on her son, who was backing toward the hall with his arms folded tight across his chest.

She stalked straight across the rug and stopped six inches from my chest, jabbing one metallic silver nail at my face.

“Make Sage say she’s sorry right now, Nolan,” Tessa said.